


Bedside Manner

by Willa Shakespeare (AnonEhouse)



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix-It, M/M, Post Gauda Prime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-16
Updated: 2013-05-16
Packaged: 2017-12-12 01:28:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/805555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonEhouse/pseuds/Willa%20Shakespeare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Dr. Bellfriar had survived the plague on Fosforon? Blake could certainly use a good doctor on Gauda Prime.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bedside Manner

(If you are reading this on any PAY site this is a STOLEN WORK, the author has NOT Given Permission for it to be here. If you're paying to read it, you're being cheated too because you can read it on Archiveofourown for FREE.)

"Oh, no." Doctor Bellfriar looked up, as everyone in the medical unit did, when the alarm triggered the security cameras. That had been Deva's idea- let everyone see where the trouble was, and exactly what it was.

That was all very well and good, but what were they to do; no one had anticipated anything like this! Bellfriar snatched up a medical kit and started towards the door.

"Doctor, you can't!" one of the men he'd been training shouted, and grabbed his arm.

"Of course I can, Galen. I've been living on borrowed time, ever since Fosforon. I should have died then." He had only a vague recollection of that time, injecting himself with random drugs, his fevered brain unable to make distinctions between poisons and placebos. Somehow the combination had cured him; cured him and left him in a charnel house, quarantined from the rest of the universe. The Federation had, eventually rescued him using a remote drone and elaborate decontamination procedures, only to treat him as an experimental animal. By the time he escaped, the rebel side was his only option. He'd been handed from one organization to another, his skills as a doctor buying him passage until he reached Blake. He wasn't sure why he wanted to join Blake, but it had been a goal. 

"They'll shoot you, too!" Galen gestured at the Federation troopers piling into the room, blasting everyone, and finally taking down the man Blake had waited for, Kerr Avon. "They'll shoot anything that moves!"

"Yes. They would." Bellfriar suddenly grinned. "Excellent! Come here, help me with this." Bellfriar began wrestling with a life-size medical model he used to instruct his students.

***

The troopers in the tracking gallery looked up when the man on the small, motorized cart rushed them, his face fixed in a mad grin. Taking him for a suicide bomber, half the troopers ran; the other half blasted the cart and its occupant.

"Give it a few minutes more," Bellfriar said in the med-unit, watching on the monitor as the Sona Vapour canister inside the mannequin did its work. The troopers collapsed before they had time to realize what was happening. That had been his main fear, that one would decide to finish off the rebels they'd already shot, but it looked as if his gamble had paid off.

"But Blake!" one of the med-techs protested.

"Just a minute more." Bellfriar was an experienced physician; he knew the necessity of distancing himself from his emotions in a crisis. He watched for another minute, timed by his chronometer. "Go, now!" 

 

***

Bellfriar had seen 'rebel triage' before. He did his best not to listen as the troopers and Arlen were shot. At least they were unconscious. 

***

"We can't stay here, Bellfriar, you know that."

Bellfriar looked up, and after a moment, placed the sharp-faced young man as Chisher, the one now in command, according to Blake's chart. "I don't know any such thing. Leave Klyn for the moment," he told one of his med-techs. "Tend to that one." He pointed to Tarrant. "I don't like the way he's breathing."

"The Federation must know our base's location."

Bellfriar nodded. "If they're nearby, this gives us the best cover to fight. If they're not, you can spare a few hours for me to try to stabilize my patients. And if you can't..." Bellfriar looked up at the rebel for a moment, his hands coated with Blake's blood. "Then go. I know where the suicide switch is. I've no more desire to be taken alive than you."

Chisher cursed for a moment, then began issuing orders. Bellfriar noticed the commotion in the back of his mind, as Chisher split people into two groups, the less combat-ready to evacuate, scattering in groups to designated re-grouping stations, while the others were assigned defensive positions. Bellfriar had Blake assessed and on a stretcher by the time Chisher returned.

"Two hours, doctor, and then we all go, including you." Chisher looked at Blake. "We need him, but we need you, too."

***

Two and a half hours later, Bellfriar was in the cargo-flier they'd remade into an ambulance, along with Blake and the other seriously injured, half his med-techs, and not nearly as much medical equipment as he could wish.

***

Later that night, Bellfriar realized Blake would live. He went to the small, dusty room adjoining the makeshift medical unit, sat down on the cot there, and wept. Then he got up, washed his face and hands, and returned to his patients.

***

"Blake. Roj Blake. It's all right." Bellfriar sat at Blake's bedside, holding Blake's hand. "You can wake up now." 

Blake's eyes opened, and he stared at Bellfriar uncomprehendingly for a moment before trying to smile. He whispered, "Sorry... always... giving you work."

Bellfriar grinned. "That's quite all right, old son. You keep me from getting rusty."

Blake smiled, and then slept again.

***

Bellfriar liked Vila. Some of the time, that is. He hadn't much patience with hypochondriacs. For whatever reason, the Federation had been using low-power stunners, and Blake had retained enough good sense not to issue an untried recruit anything else, so Deva and Vila had both awakened with nothing more than a stunner headache. 

Not that the stunners were a joke when given to someone who'd been abusing amphetamines, the way Avon had. Or who'd been through a crash, like Tarrant with broken ribs, lacerated lung and a cracked tibia. Or who happened to have an unsuspected heart murmur, like Soolin. Or who happened to be allergic to the stimulant they'd used to revive the stun victims, like Dayna. 

Avon's lot were medical disasters waiting to happen, he'd decided long before he'd finished the first set of readings on them. Of course, Bellfriar had been less than sympathetic, having to patch up Blake, Klyn and technician Davro, who'd been touch and go that first night, too, not much better off than Blake. 

And now this. "Vila. Did you have to?" Bellfriar looked at Avon's body.

"I needed to." Vila waved the old-fashioned straight razor in the air for emphasis. "You don't know that that bastard did to me! Especially not the last year!"

"You've made me your accomplice. If I hadn't drugged him..." Bellfriar looked at Avon, glad those dark eyes weren't glaring at him.

Vila smirked, folded up the razor and handed it to Bellfriar. "You didn't like the way he was getting at Blake. You'd think it was all Blake's fault, getting shot!"

"Still, Vila, revenge isn't as sweet as you might think. Especially not petty revenge." Bellfriar got a cloth and wiped the shaving cream off Avon's newly hairless chest.

"It wouldn't have been so petty if you hadn't caught me before I was done!" Vila showed Bellfriar the needles, bottle of ink, and line-drawing of a big-eyed teddy bear.

Bellfriar laughed. "You'd best get rid of that before he comes to."

"Avon?" The familar voice behind Bellfriar made him jump.

Bellfriar whirled. "Blake! You should be resting."

"I've been resting long enough." Blake walked slowly into the room. "What's happened to Avon?"

 "Nothing, nothing." Vila hid the tray behind his back. "Have to go. It's my turn to man the security monitors." Vila scuttled out of the room the moment Blake turned away from him.

"Avon's fine," Bellfriar said. "Vila... well, you know Vila. Come on, let's get you back to your room, Blake. Doctor's orders."

Blake let Bellfriar take his arm, but then he headed for the chair next to Avon's bed. "Why is he unconscious?"

Bellfriar sighed, and gave in, helping Blake to the chair. "He's sedated. He was becoming over-excited."

Blake grinned. "You mean he was giving me hell about my plans, and you thought I was getting over-excited." Blake shook his head. "You don't know Avon. He...energizes me."

"Oh. Yes. I see." Bellfriar let his hand drop from Blake's shoulder.

Blake looked at Bellfriar. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I... I have things to do." 

"Doctor. Tell me what's wrong. I thought you, of all people, understood when I refused to allow Avon and his people to be blamed for that... disaster in the tracking gallery. Things like that happen in war. You get tired, you get careless, you get trigger-happy, you make mistakes. We all do. Executing Avon wouldn't help the cause. It wouldn't further justice. And it certainly wouldn't help me. I need Avon. He's my other half."

"Yes. Yes, I understand that perfectly." Bellfriar turned away from Blake and said softly. "You love him."

"Yes." Blake stood up, and grasped Bellfriar's shoulders. "Look at me."

Bellfriar turned.

Blake said softly, "I love him like the brother I lost. The same way he loves me, although the little bastard could never admit it." Blake paused. "I don't love him the way I love you."

Bellfriar stared at Blake in shock.

Blake raised his hand and flattened it against Bellfriar's cheek. "You're a strong, gentle, intelligent man. And I like the way you smile." He kissed Bellfriar. "I think you should take me to bed, now."

***

Vila popped his head back in ten minutes later. "Well?"

Avon grunted, and pulled Orac's key before the computer could say 'well is not a question'. "Yes." He looked down at his chest. "Get me my pajama top; I’m cold."

Vila grinned, rummaged in a drawer, and tossed Avon a shirt. "You're lucky Bellfriar came along when he did. I was really tempted to do it, you know." He waved the teddy bear sketch in front of Avon's eyes.

Avon snatched it, crumpled it and tossed it into the waste bin. "We were all fortunate Bellfriar came along when he did."

"Don’t go all soft on me, Avon, I wouldn't recognize you."

"Get the chessboard. I'll show you how soft I am."

Vila grinned and obeyed.


End file.
